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The Yakima Herald.
VOL. 3. THE MlMt MAlll. REED 4 COE Proprietors. ■ nI'KD KVUHV THCHHDAt. *2.00 i’KH ANNUM. IN ADVANCE. Unriiibl l«l(* Cp»> iffiiatin. E. M. BMn.EilltMrMiJ BiuiMMHumor. Official Paper of North Yatima. NtOfEBSIOSAL CARDS. H. J. UPVELY, Attorney at Law. |»ntnce over Yakima National Bank. North Vakline. will practice la all tba court* ol the Bute and U. 8. land offices. I. a. as a via. I a. a. mtaor. REA VIS A MILKOY, Attorneys at Law. practice In all Conrta of the Territory. Special attention given to all U. 8. laud office business. Office* at North Yakima am' Eik-n* harsh, W. T. ■ IOW ASD WHITSON. , VIED I* AKK RR. WHITSON A PARKER, Attorneys at Law. in Pint National Bank Building. 8. O. MORFORD, Attorney at Law, Practice* In all Court* In the Territory. Es pecial attention to Collection*. Office up *Ulr* over Feebler A Rom’, North Yakima. JOHN G BOYLE, Attorney at Law. Office next door to the (Tutted State* I .and Office T. M. VANCE, ATTORNmr - AT - LAW. Office over Fint National Bank. Special at tention given to Land Office bualne**. 8. C. HKNTON, JUSTICE of tlx* PEACE, NOTARY PUBLIC, U. S. COMMISSIONER. Special attention given collection* and Notary work. Office over Yakima National Bank. T. a. nuns. «. e. our. GUNN A COE, Physicians and Surgeons. Office oa id street, in building formerly occn pled by Dr. W. A. Monroe. aplft-tf O. M. GRAVES, DENTIST. All work In my line Srat-clann. l/ocal aneothet lc* used to extract teeth without pain. No charge for examination. gW Office over Pint National baua. Roslyn Coal, Dry Wood aid Feice Posts Always on Hand. lui will k>K U P«, Cuh wki Mr lag. It M tqfi h IW. JOHN REED. Agent. The Celebrated French Sure, "EXT “APHBOOITINE” ar sa f GUARANTEE DSjV/ RjroofMfTout •ex whether*r telnt tnm the AFT EH •XOMMVCMSof W ImsUou, Tobacco or Opima, •r through youthful Indiarretlon, over indulg ence, Ac., each ii I jam of Brain Power, Wekeful new. Bearing down Peine In the Beck, Sentinel Hraterle, Herron. Prostration N octant s' kmlralom, Le«c.»rrhcpe, Dluinew, Week Mem- Llo'?SK?^K bO “ , “ ,iOO * A WHITTKN ODABAMTKI for.-CT,(5,00 ‘ot'zsrx! s; from old end yon ns. of both eexee, permanently eared by AmeoDmne. Cirealer free. SOLD BY W. H. CHAPMAN. Sole Agent, North Yakima. Waah. (hslena Far laheti and CkOdm. OwtuU prenetw Dig—Man, and ovwobSss 1 Watalency, ConeMpatkm, Boor Stomach, Diarrhoea, and Feverishness Thoe the child Is rendered healthy and ite sleep setweL Oeeterle contains no Morphine or other on rootle property. "OasUHalsse wad edepeed to chMren that a* * far aMMian. astinc ee e Unfits end reUeetaw Tea OewaeaODerear.TTMumw Street, K.Y. Beolah Barton’s Birthday. By MARY KYLE DALLAS. (Copyright, l»U by American Press Associa tion.) CHAPTER L “And you don’t know yet that the fifth of Augutt U my Ueulah’t birthday .” “Seems to me, Mis’ Barton, that your folks are going to hev a party,” said Mr. Bploer, the grocer, as he extracted from the bunches of fine “eating raisins” that he was weighing one that tipped the scales, and held it suspended, hesitating between a wish to be just and a fear of being too generous. “Seems to me, Mis’ Barton, your folks are going to her a party.” Mrs. Barton, a thin lady, with a flat chest and sloping shoulders, who wore the “waterfall” of the period at the back of her head and was dressed in a way that spoke of easy circumstances, as in deed did the little basket phaeton that waited for her at the door, pursed up her lip* ... . . “I've dealt with you ever since 1 was married and came to live on the Heights, Mr. Spicer,” she said, "and you don't know yet that the fifth of August is my Beulah's birthday. I gave her a party when she was two years old, and I've f ven her one ever since, and as long as live I shall give her one. 1 don't think there's anybody else in Mulberry that wouldn’t remember that we always had a party at our house on the fifth of August” "I did remember it, too, Mis’ Barton,” said the grocer, “but this here war is driving everything else out of our minds, 1 think. Well, since it's a birthday, in goes the bunch, overweight as it is. And how old is little Beulah getting to be, Mis’ Barton?" "She’s seventeen,” said Mrs. Barton. “Well, well,” said Mr. Spicer. "Why, Fd have said ten if I’d been asked. How time flies.” “Don’t talk.” said Mrs. Barton, “it spins. Yon can send two baskets of them Maryland peaches np, Mr. Spicer, they're beauties, and 1 guess I’ve got everything else. It's a young folks’ party, you know, so 1 don’t ask any mar ried folks but Beulah's aunt and uncle; but I’ve sent an invitation to your Reu ben. I guess he must have got it If not he’ll get it today. He might fetch his flute, I should think; anybody that can entertain had ought to.” “I’ll make him. Mis' Barton." said Mr. Spicer. “He's bashful about taking it with him for fear folks will think he wants to be asked to play. I doirt know but 1 like him to feel so. But if yon really want he should HI make him.” After which hs helped Mrs. Barton into the phaeton. And the facta that it was Beulah Barton’s birthday; that she was seventeen; that Mrs. Barton was going to give a party; that she always did and always would give a party on her daughter's birthday; that she had bought some of those Maryland peaches, and that she was Anxious his Reuben should bring his flute and that he was going to make him, furnished counter conversation for the rest of the day. The squire sat on the sugar barrel and talked it over. The doctor dropping in added the information that Beulah Bar ton was as pretty a baby as he ever saw, and the veal estate broker remarked that Jeremiah Barton bad been one who knew how to buy and when to sell, and hadn't left his widow to go out washing for a living, us some men did who had passed for rich with everybody. And then they fell to talking of the war, the all absorbing subject of the day, of their own regiment, of the boys who had done gallant things and the boys who had fallen. Strong partisans, they, all on one side, and they agreed perfectly. “Glad when it's over, though,” said the squire, checking a sigh. “Moth er, she gets np sometimes of moon light nights and looks ont of the sonth window. Seems as if Jim might be look ing at the moon at that minute and sort of feel ma was looking too. she says Jim waa her baby, you know.” •Yes, 1 know, said the grocer. “1 couldn't spare Ren, you see. 1 was oldish when he was born. Sarah Jane was my second wife. 1 tell the minuter I'd ought to bev named him Benjamin.” Just then Ren came into the store. He had been to the postofflee and had some papers and letters in his hand. One of the envelopes waa large, square and with a gilt edge. Such envelopes were need for elegant occasions in that 4*J- His color rose as he nodded to every body and went hastily into the back room. His father knew that he had re ceived his invitation. That night, when it was too late for customers to come and the shutters were np and the door looked, Mr. Spicer sat at his desk and figured with a pencil on the cover of a passbook. "She must be worth a couple of hun dred thousand anyway," be said after awhile. "I don’t believe in marrying for money, but Beulah’s a nice girl, too, and I want he should marry and settle in Mulberry, not off in the city. 1 guess Mis’ Barton won’t object Ef marryin’ throe times hadn’t sremed too much like fullerin' Bluebeard's example I’d have tried for the widder five years ago. She ain’t handsome, Mis' Barton ain’t, but ( NORTH YAKIMA, WASHINGTON, THURSDAY, OBTOBER 1, 1891. she's as genteel lockin’ a lady as 1 know.” After a while he said: ••Well, it would be better this way;" and when, as was their custom, father and son sat in the little back room taking “a bite" of something before they went to bed, the old man said to the young one: “ Whatever yon want yon most go to town and get. I want yon should be as well rigged as anybody, and fixy things become you." “Dad, you are a brick!" cried the boy, with the most respectful intentions, whatever Lord Chesterfield might have thought of the style of his address could he have heard it; “and a fellow must talk to somebody. Do yon know, 1 like her." "Beulah7" queried Mr. Spicer. “Tea," replied Reu. “She’s so pretty, don’t you think? If I tried for her would yon mind? They're a little uppish, but’’ “We’re as good as anybody, my son," said Spicer. “Nancy Peeler’s folks were considerably plainer than ourn, though she did well for herself. Go ahead, I'm with you." “Most fellows’ fathers are against them when it comes to that sort of thing." said Reu. “Well, I’ve only got you, my boy," said Spicer. "All that’s mine is yours, and 1 want you should be happy. All that makes me sick is the idea of being parted from yon. But if yon like Beulah and she likes yon that wouldn't happen.” At this juncture, if this father and son had been Frenchmen, they would have embraced. But they were Americana of the Americans, so old Spicer gave Reu a thump on the back and Reu squared off scientifically and tapped him lightly on the chest, and both laughed a little fool ishly. And all the same the boy was the light of his father's eye and knew it. Meanwhile all this had not been said without some little understanding be tween the young people. Beulah, amid all the excitement of preparation for her first grown up party and the coming home of a blue silk dress with seven flounces and a train, still thought more of Reuben than of anything else—what he would say, what he would think o t her in her new dress. Above all, whether he would come early, before the others, so that they could have a little talk. She hoped he would, she thought ho would, and she was dressed very early and on the watch for him, and if he had come all would have been different, for he would hkve told her all that was in bis heart and the answer would have been a cheering one. She was ready to listen to him, and for this reason the fact of his nonarrival piqued her; and when he proved to be not only not the first guest but not the twentieth, she was seriously offended and ready for re prisals. Yet it was not poor Reuben's fault by any means. The boy had been dressed very early, even to the flower in his buttonhole, and had been duly ad mired by his father, and was about to set forth in a gig driven by the hired man in order that he might arrive at his destination in his original spick and span condition, when little Tommy Briggs, the son of their next neighbor, who had been fishing in the Spicer well with a crooked pin and a spool of bast ing cotton, slipped from the brink and vanished headfirst beneath the water. Mrs. Briggs, who witnessed the catas trophe from her garret window, went into hysterics on the spot The old black woman who supervised the Spicer kitch en fell down on her knees and began to pray in campmeeting fashion, with many cries and groans and shouts and writhing*. Mr. Spicer began to look for his glasses in order to see what was the matter, and the neighbors universally shouted "help" and "murder." In a few moments there would certainly have been one little angel more had not Reuben, tearing off his coat and vest and throwing them on the grass, jumped to the well brink, caught the chain, gone down in the bucket and grabbed Master Tommy by his curls, which his mother had fortunately fostered. To lift Master Tommy, gasping and shrieking, within reach of the brink, where somebody took charge of him, and to scramble np himself was not a very difficult matter. But what a plight he was ini Wet to the waist; his patent leather ties full of water; his cuffs soaked; his face dripping with perspira tion; the hair, to which the hairdresser had given the most delicate touches, out of curl and rumpled: and to crown all, Mrs. Briggs, who had been making over • feather bed in the garret and bad fallen into its depths in her excitement, insisted on embracing his knees while calling him the preserver of her darling child and praying heaven to bleu him. Gladly would he have gone without thanks in order to avoid the large contri bution of fluff and chicken feathers with which she endowed him, but rid of the grateful family, the neighbors who came to talk it over and the strangers who called to inquire what had happened, Reuben put into the back room for re pairs and a serious consultation was held with Mr. Trabb, the tailor, who waa good enough to step over. • Well, sir,” said Mr. Trabb. with a diplomatic air, “them pants will come ont right. I don’t say all that fluff don't complicate matters, but 1 can bring ’em round, only it will take time.” “How much, Trabb?” asked Mr. Spicer, who was managing the affair. “ 'Bout an hour,” said Trabb, and car ried off the garments. It wm two boon and a half before he returned with them. Meanwhile it waa discovered that old Mrs. Betty, the brewer's stoat mother, had been sitting an the coat and vest, that the hat had been rubbed the wrong way and that the shoes would not dry. A toilet was made at last, bat by no means the spruce affair of the early evening, and poor Reuben, who had calculated on having such a good opportunity for his wooing, and such a happy time with Beulah, ar rived at the Bartons' at last to be re ceived by Mrs. Barton with the informa tion that every one had gone down to supper except little Miss Smith, who was just going down with her, but would naturally enjoy herself mors with a gen- 1 tie man. 1 - | Little Mias Smith waa fifteen. Perhaps she enjoyed herself, but poor Reuben did not. Very near him sat Beulah, so en tirely absorbed in the conversation of a 1 tali gentleman with fine features and a J large mustache and very expressive eyee, that she did not even look at him. He discovered after a while that the gentleman was Mr. Du Bois. from Texas, Who was visiting relatives in Mulberry, ami that he bad devoted himself to Beu lah all the evening, and it occurred to him that he might have been a favored admirer for some time, as his friends were neighbors of the Bartons. At all events Beulah bad no eyes for any one else. It never occurred to him that be ing piqued aid offended by his late ar rival she was revenging herself, fie coold nut know that charming and chiral ■ runs as Mr. Du Bois certainly was, so much more conscious than were any of the young men of Mulberry that America expected every man to do his duty at an evening party, her every thought was with him, recreant though he was. While Du Bois paid her compliments that were poems and lowered his voice and looked into her eyee. she kept asking herself how Reuben felt, and hoping that he was suf fering pangs of jealousy. After a while she intended to forgive him if he were snfflciently penitent, bat not readily, not easily. Why shonld she, who could make such an impression on a splendid man like Du Bois? Not until this wonderful Du Bois was gone did poor Reuben get an opportunity to approach Beulah. "You have not even said ’How do you do?* to me. nor have 1 wished yon many happy returns of the day,” he said. “Ah,” she said coldly; “I did not know you were here.” “You were too well entertained to notice me. I suppose," he retorted. “I was certainly very well entertained," she answered. “Ah, those southern gen tlemen are so charming when yon come to know them." “And Mr. Du Bois is an intimate friend, I presume?" said Reuben. "Recently.” replied Beulah, purposely looking conscious. Trifles light as air are to the jealous confirmation strong as proofs of holy writ Reuben said to himself: "She likes him. She will marry him. He has driven me out of her heart." He looked gloomily down at the toes of the shoes which had taken the place of those in which be had descended into the well to rescue the lost fisherman. Had Beulah noticed that he came late he would have told her why. But now he thought why should he? She did not care. Meanwhile she was longing for an ex planation that should give her an excuse for forgiving him then and there. She asked herself why did he not speak or •it down beside her or do something? She was so vexed that he did not that she could scarcely keep from stamping her little foot, and an evil spirit prompted her to say: "There is something in ancestry. Mr. Du Bois comes of a family, no member of which has ever worked at a trade or kept shop, or even followed a profession for pecuniary reasons. 1 think one could tell it by the way he carries himself, don’t you?” “I don't know; I'm the son of a shop keeper, yon remember,” Reuben answer ed. “Not a judge of such matters. Good evening." He was gone, and instead of sitting down to talk things over with her mother, as that lady expected she would, Beulah rushed to her own room, threw her new blue dress into a corner, and without even brushing her hair, hid herself be neath the coverings and cried herself to sleep, while Mrs. Barton, feeling that this was a very disappointing world, counted the spoons, put away the best damask, and lamented the spots on the dining room carpet, as she always did after those annual birthday parties, which she felt it her duty to give in Benlah’s honor. In his bed that night Reuben did not weep. Men do not habitually, but he felt as he had never felt before. The demon jealousy liad entered into him. He was full of rage and hate, and these emotions were new to him. Suddenly he found himself sitting up, clinching his pillow with his left hand and deal ing it heavy blows with his doubled right fist “I should like to kill himr he said, thinking of Do Bois. “To kill him! To kill him!” He seised the bolster with both hands and smothered with it an imaginary Desdemona. Then he was very much ashamed of himself there in the dark, and thought bow his dead mother would have grieved could she have known of his violent and absurd emotions. That fair, delicate mother had been a Quakeress. Often she had taken him with her to meeting, and he had liatened to the mild, sweet, drawling speech of the Friends whom the spirit moved to speak. It had bad an influence upon him. Had he chosen a profession be would rather have been a surgeon to heal men than a soldier to kill them. But now all his nature was altered, au<l he felt there was no possibility of follow ing the steps of his father and grand father as dealers in groceries. Herspeech concerning the superiority of those who had a distinguished ancestry who had never engaged in trade seemed to ring in his ears. “11l be a soldier," he said. I ‘Til go to the war. No one can despise a soldier." In imagination he saw himself slaying men like this Du Bois. He rode into the ranks of the enemy unscathed. “He bears a charmed life," he heard them say, but knew that he feared nothing, because the life in which Beulah had no share had no value for him. He threw himself back upon his pillow, rose in imagination from the ranks to a captain cy. was major, colonel, major general, fell asleep then and dreamed that in a wild, smoke veiled contest he stood face to face with Du Bois, the man whom Beulah loved. Then—he never oould re member what followed, but he awoke determined to enlist. The poor old father uttered a groan when he came home one day and told him that he had done so, bat he felt a little thrill of pride notwithstanding. But what was done could not be un done. “Elf 1 wasn't too old I’d go along with you,’’ he said. “I'd like you and me to fight aide by side. I wonder ef they'd take me?" “No, no, dad," said Reuben. “HI be back soon.” “I shall pray for you," said old Spicer, “bat 1 dnnno as I'm listened to." He was thinking of the prayers he had offered to heaven that bis boy and be might never be parted. And it had all come to this. He knew why. "Just a pretty little girl, and there’s such lots of little girls," be thought; “and he’s only got one old dad, living on borrowed time, too. and fonder of him than words can tell, and he ain’t nothin' to him compared with one little girl.” But he bade his son godspeed, and waved bis large rod handkerchief as the regiment marched away, and stepped to the music a little himself, and whistled his way home, bnt his hair got whiter after that, and it was at breakfast time next morning that black Sally noticed fur the first time that he was beginning to stoop. As fur Beulah, she not been well since the night of the birthday party. Not well enough to see Mr. Du Bois when he cal led "to say good by, and had been so gallant to her mother that the old lady stood before the mantel mirror for ten minutes after he had gone, and said to herself that she mast bo wonderfully well preserved for her age. No, Beulah had not been well, but on this day mother and daughter had gone out for a ride together and bad driven down toward what was called the land ing, when they were aware of a steam boat lying there, the stars and stripe* flying and a regiment marching on board of her. The long line of boys in blue stretched up the street; the band played “Tho Girl I Left Behind Me.” The pony attached to the basket phaeton thought it respectful to stand on his hind legs and widen his nostrils, and a man who was watching the procession took him by the bridle and held him, ■nothing him by certain pats and whis pers. “Another lot of men off, 1 see," said Mrs. Barton. "Yes,” said the man, “therels Free man Pennypacker and Rodman Calkiu dahl and Phineas Spot, and the youngest of ’em is Reuben Spicer, Grocer Spicer's boy. 1 see him stop to shake hands with his father just now. It's rough on the eld man—rough. Like enough he won't see Reu again in this world." It was just then that Beulah leaned back on the cushions. A little later her mother discovered that she had fainted. CHAPTER 11. And taking a flank from hi* pocket put it to hit lips. Often after that Beulah as well as the squire's wife used to rise from her bed of moonlight nights and look toward the south. How many women did that in those days, 1 wonder, mothers and sisters and wives and sweethearts, all told—northern women and southern women whose hearts ached alike? She used to put her palms together and lay her cheek upon them, after a pretty unconscious fashion that she had, and think that if ever Reuben came back she would try to make up with him. But she had very little bojie that he would return. “I am punished for behaving as 1 did to the man 1 loved,” she often said in confidence to Diana, “and I shall bo punished more and more.” And the pale huntress seemed to give her a cold smile of assent We do such odd, mad things when we are young and in love, especially if we are unhappy. lam sure that Mrs. Bar ton would have sent for the doctor to prescribe for poor Beulah if she bad heard her talking to the moon in little, low murmurs, interspersed with soft sobs, but no one heard her and the habit grew. “You are up there, so high above the world," she would say; “you can see Reuben. Ah, if you conld tell me what yon see!" And one night the silent moon conld indeed have told her a thrilling tale, painted a strange picture. Far to the southward her silver light flooded a battlefield red with blood. All day they had been fighting, the blue and the gray. No matter what they call the battle in history or how it ended we have only followed Reuben there for his love's sake. The fighting bad been furious, gal lant, on both sides; they were all Ameri cans—the dark eyed, black haired, dash ing soldiers of the south; the cool, strong, light haired, gray eyed northern men. The fighting, orderly at first, had be come a wild turmoil. The men were fighting hand to hand; officers whose horses had been killed under them were on foot, sword in hand, covered with blood, dust and gunpowder; hideous sights were to be seen everywhere; wounded men, bleeding at every vein; crippled horses struggling to rise: mount ed men vainly striving to prevent their horses from trampling on fallen com rades; dead men fallen forward in their saddles, borne into the thickest of the fray, their hands frosen to their sword hilts. The setting sun was merely a red rim ■ beyond the blackest westward woods) when Reuben almost stumbled over an officer in Confederate uniform lying on bis back upon the ground. The next moment a mounted cavalryman dashed past and stooping low in his saddle struck at the poor wretch with his sword. Reuben parried the blow with his gun. The rider was gone, glad perhaps that he had not carried out bis purpose, which was only a furious impulse of the mo ment. not the coldblooded and cruel thing it seems as it is written. But Reuben, who bad a tender heart, coold not leave his enemy there to be trampled upon, and began to drag him toward the nearest clump of trees, half way across the space that lay between. He heard the “ping” of a ballet, felt a pang in his left arm and did the rest of his work with his right As the two men fell together nnder the old pine the sun vanished, twilight fell. A retreat hod began. In ten min utes the great plain was deserted by all bnt the dead and dying. Even the wounded who were able to move bad gotten away somehow. Reuben was not suffering much. His arm was benumbed; with his other he managed to place the Confederate officer in a sitting position, his back against the tree, and taking a flask from his pocket pat it to his lips. A faint voice lifted itself. “Sir, you are very kind, but you may need that yourself," he laid. “Yon also are wounded." "Plenty for both," said Reuben. A little later, revived by the draught, the Confederate officer was binding Reuben's arm, shattered above the elbow. “1 am conscious, sir," he said, “that it waa in aiding me you received this wound. You are a magnanimous euemy." As he spoke a peculiar expression, the promise of a smile that waa not fulfilled, passed over hia mouth. Reuben had seen it before; it awakened a memory, aa a glance, a sound, a per fume often will. He was once more in Mrs. Barton's large dining room. He saw before him the table with its dishes of salad, its gold and silver cake, itsmac caroon pyramids, its shapes of cream and jelly. He saw the Mulberry belles in their evening dresses, the Mulberry beaux chattering, smiling, looking pleased with themselves, striving to please the ladies. Beulah, in her blue dress with tea roses at her belt, so absorbed in the conversa tion of young Do Bois that she had no eyes for him, and everything else van ished. as everything dues if one fixes one's eyes long enough upon some single star in the clear night sky. “Beulah, Beulah,” he whispered. Then out of the mists came the smile that was so pecu liar. “Is your name Du Bois?" be asked. „ “Yes,” replied the other. “I have met yon at the north; they entertained me most hospitably; 1 met charming people. lam glad to”— He paused, his voice failed him, but be struggled to complete the sentence, “to meet yon again.” The knight of courtesy was faithful to the last Reuben sat silent. The moon waa ■low!j rising, a great, silver disk in the sky. Afar in Reuben's native home Beulah saw her rise. The white light flooded the great, stubbly field with all its ghastly relics of the battle, and the handsome face of Du Bois looked white as Parian marble. He spoke again, and his voice had altered strangely. His hands moved stiffly as be drew a ring from bis finger. “I—l shall not see my wife again,” he said. “Poor darling, she'll break her heart. We love each other. Let—let me put this on your finger. Borne day give her this and tell her I thought of her and the babies last of all Tell her how good you were to me. Oalveston, Texas, is our home.” Reuben could not see him for the tean that dimmed bis eyes, but their hands met in a long, lingering clasp. And still the moon shone down upon them, riding her course, and Beulah watched it. “Tell him 1 loved him all the while,” she whispered. And be at the moment was saying to himself: “Jealous fool that I was. He was a married man, who loved his wife, and Beulah must have known it The poor fellow was gallant to all women. Well, 1 shall never see her again, or poor old dad either.** CHAPTER 111 And there in that bach room the talk wot long and tweet One day, aa Mrs. Barton sat upon her porch crocheting together the stripe of an afghan, Mr. Spicer opened the gate and came in. He had never done more than nod in passing. But now he strode up to the porch. His face was red and his eyes biased. “Where’s your girl?" he asked roughly. “Sally?" queried Mrs. Barton. “In the kitchen, 1 guess. Has she been doing anything ont of the wayT “I don’t mean Sally, I mean your daughter," said old Spicer. He swayed a little as be stood there, and Mrs. Bar ton wondered if he could have been drinking. “Well, 1 ain't need to hear Beulah asked for just exactly in that way, yon know, Mr. Spicer," she said. For answer, Spicer held toward her a letter and a newspaper that he clutched in his hand. “Read them," he said. “Mews from the seat of war,* cried NO. 36. Mrs. Barton, “Oh. Mr. Spicer, la it bad news?" “My Reuben is dead, and yoar girl murdered him,” cried the old man shrilly, ▲t this moment both saw Beulah stand ing in the doorway. She was trembling from head to foot “What does he mean, mother? What does he mean?” she cried. “I guess be is oat of his mind, child," said Mrs. Barton. “He's got bad news. Sit down, Mr. Spicer, and let me get yon a good cold drink. We’ve got to bear afflictions when they come.” “I’m not crazy, Mrs. Barton,” said old Spicer. “I know what I'm saying, and your girl knows what I mean. You did it at your birthday party. 1 don’t know what you did, but he went to it happy and hopeful, meaning to ask yon to her him, I guess. My Renben wasn't a bov to do that without encouragement, and when he came back I didn't know him. No. 1 didn't know him; he was so altered, broke down, wretched, desperate. Yoo drove him away. You thought yourself above him, I suppose. You're not! You're not! My Ren was any girl's equal.” And then that absurd speech of hers about people who bad never been shop keepers rushed into Beulah's mind, and, to her mother's shocked astonishment, she sprang forward and threw her arms around old Spicer's neck. “Say anything to mel 1 deserve itf ahe sobbed. "But 1 never meant io drive him away. I’ve cried over it many a long night 1 didn't know he felt so. 1 was angry because he did not coma early. I thought he didn’t care, and 1 loved him. I loved him aa well aa yon did— Oh, Reuben, Reuben, Reuben!" The old man sat down upon one of the red chairs with which the porch was furnished, and Beulah knelt down be side him, and they wept together like two children for their lost dear one. That year, for the first time, Mrs. Bar ton did not give her girl a birthday party. Beulah was very ill on that an niversary, and though she did not die, she settled down into an invalid—one of those interesting persons who exist in every village, to whom people take jelly and flowers and religions books, and of whose case the doctors find it impossible to give a diagnosis. It was a great trial for Mrs. Barton, who was a spirited person, and who final ly became not so sorry for her daugh ter aa angry with her. “Of course Reuben Spicer was a very nice young man,” she said to herself, “and 1 dnnno aa 1 should have objected; but widders marry again in a couple of years sometimes, and 1 feel as if Beulah needn't carry on so so long.” And when August came and Mary land peaches were ripe and stood in big basketfuls at Mr. Spicer's door, Mrs. Barton, thinner and sharper of feature than of yore, but still aa neatly cuffed and collared and coiffured as ever, stood be side the couch on which Beulah lay propped up by pillows, and said slowly and decisively: “The last birthday party yon had, Beulah Barton, was in sixty-one. Two years I've skipped it This year I’m goin’ to give you one.” “Mother!” cried Beulah. "I be," said Mrs. Barton, who, when ever she wished to be impressive, re turned to Yankee dialect. “Mother!'’ repeated Beulah, “when you know I'm dying of a broken heart” “I didn't know no sech thing, Beulah Barton.” said her mother; “anyhow you air actin’ rebellious, and bleesin’s never follow that sort of thing. The Lord's will has got to be done. August the fifth sees yon havin' a birthday party, and you're guin' to set up to it ef 1 hev to carry yon down stain pig-a-back. Hear?" “Yes, ma'am,” said Beulah, closing her eyes. “Very well, you kin look over them samples and see what 1 shill get for you a drees,” said Mrs. Barton. laying a great envelope on the afghan that covered Beulah as she reposed on the conch, “and choose a proper nice patron, do.” "Mother, you're talking dreadfully Yankee,” said the girl. “I wish you wouldn't" But Mrs. Barton had left her alone, and after awhile she opened the envelope and found within a bunch of silk sam ples and a little fashion magazine, and shortly grew interested, and finally,when her tea was ready, pronounced with a sigh in favor of heliotrope color and white lace flounces. H week ] SKELETON WITH TAILS. rnkutwir Fmn With Urial .tppmhgn Fmt h Inkt. A discovery which will prove of im mense interest to ethnologists has lieen made at the little hamlet of Similes, Mexico, within the past few days while breaking ground for a large coffee plan tation, which is being established by an English syndicate. The Hud consists of thousands of skeletons either of large apes or of prehistoric human beings of a very low order. If the remains are of apes, they were of a gigantic size and of a variety no longer extant, while if they are of men the men were provided with distinct caudal appendages, very thick and abort, and curled up like a squirrel’s. That they are the skeletons of apes can hardly be doubted, judging from the arms, which reach nearly half afoot below the knee, and the thumbs, which are also abnormally long and curved, with ex exceedingly sharp and powerful nails. The feet, too, sliow that they were In tended for climbing, rather than walking, and are also provided with claws and prehensile toea of unusual length. It la probable that the large number of skele tioos found is due to the battle between two bands of animals having taken place at this spot, which la further proven by the number of broken skulls and other bones among them and the fact that sev eral of the skeletons were found clenched in a deadly embrace. No weapons, how ever, were distwvered, but as these wem probably of wood they hare perished in the course of time.